


Just Be

by LawrIsNotMocked



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Confusion, Dancing, Dreams, F/M, Family, Fantasy, Javert - Freeform, Love, Lovers, M/M, Night, Odd, Sleep, Slow Burn, Stars, Surreal, Symbolism, Symbols, ethereal, lucid dream, strange, unusual, valjean - Freeform, valvert - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-03-08 11:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13457283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawrIsNotMocked/pseuds/LawrIsNotMocked
Summary: Valjean falls asleep and has some weird-ass dreams.  Javert maybe does the same.  They might realize they dreamt of each other.





	1. The Waltz

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if it's weird or confusing or poorly written! I always write before bed, so I'm usually super tired and don't proofread, lollll.

After a long day of paperwork, Valjean finally was able to return home Friday evening. Relieved to be away from the office for what seemed like the first time in years, he hastily built a roaring fire and flopped down on the sofa in front of it once it got going. Exhausted from the chilly weather, headaches and hassles at work, and countless other things pulling his mind in different directions, he quickly fell into a deep slumber, enveloped in the cozy warmth of the fire.

When he opened his eyes next, Valjean found himself in front of the fire, as expected, but Inspector Javert was lying next to him, somehow also on the sofa. Valjean sat up in surprise. 

“Inspector! I didn’t realize you’d… w-when did you come in? I’m sorry! If I had known to expect-“ 

“Hush, Monsieur le Maire. You know perfectly well when and how I came in.” 

“I’m not sure I do,” Valjean admitted, obviously confused and possibly a bit embarrassed by his faulty memory. 

“Forgetful man,” Javert uttered softly. And with that, he leaned toward Valjean, pulled the older man’s face in towards his own, and they kissed. Square on the lips. Firmly… resolutely. Valjean was shocked but pleased. He didn’t realize the inspector knew about his little crush on him, let alone felt the same way! 

“What a nice turn of events this is,” Valjean muttered, half to himself. 

“Would it not be even nicer if we were dancing?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

Javert stood and pulled Valjean to his feet. Valjean was surprised at this rather bold, impulsive side of Inspector Javert, but allowed himself to be lead into a waltz by the tall man. Javert was an unexpectedly good dancer. The inspector smirked at Valjean’s surprised expression. 

“I don’t see why you seem so taken aback by any of this.” 

“You truly don’t understand why I might be the slightest bit shocked by finding you in my house, or that kiss? Or by you now leading me in a waltz? Wait. What is... what is that music? Do you hear it too?” 

“Monsieur le Maire.” 

“Madeleine.” 

“Madeleine. Of course I hear it. It is a lovely choice of music for a waltz.” 

“You chose it?” 

“Of course not. Don’t you recall hiring this orchestra? How forgetful you really are!” Javert half-joked. His pale eyes sparkled with amusement. 

“Or…ches…-?” Valjean turned to see what exactly Javert was going on about, and gasped to see a small ensemble of string players playing the enchanting melody. But where were they? This was not his living room anymore! It almost appeared as if they were in space. On some distant planet or far away moon! 

“Ah, I see you’re admiring our surroundings. I must admit that was my choice. I do admire the stars so… so I chose this celestial setting for our waltz.” 

Valjean’s jaw probably stayed open the whole dance. He wanted to ask more questions, to explore this bizarre world, to examine the orchestra more, maybe request a song… but he felt compelled to continue this odd dance with the inspector. 

Finally, as the song and dance ended (and Javert gave an elegant bow to his partner), he thought he understood the situation. 

“Inspector Javert-“ 

“Javert.” 

“Javert… I am dreaming, am I not?” 

“Would it be so awful if you were?” 

“Definitely not!” 

“Then don’t ask questions. Don’t ruin the moment. Just be, Madeleine. Make the situation what you will. If it is a dream, make it a good one.” 

“Can I really control how it goes, though?” 

“Is it not your own mind creating all of this?” 

“Is it though?” 

“Just be.” 

“What do you mean by that? Why do you say that?” 

“Do me a favor, Madeleine.” 

“Anything, I suppose,” Valjean replied, half surprised that Javert had not answered his question, even with annoyance. 

“Spin for me.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

Javert offered a hand, Valjean took it, and Javert raised it up over Valjean’s head, and Valjean twirled. He felt himself becoming more aware of what he was doing… that this truly was a dream, but he became more conscious. More in control. 

“When you feel yourself slipping, turn around a few times. In case it wasn’t obvious, this is a lucid dream. You’re in control. You choose your destiny here.” 

“I don’t know how to control it, though.” 

“You do.” 

“Javert, I really don’t! I swear!” 

Javert rolled his eyes, grinned, and handed Valjean a red rose. His mouth drew very near Valjean’s ear, and the mayor shuddered. “Just be.” 

Valjean pulled away to look at Javert, but the man had disappeared.


	2. The Crater

Valjean turned around again, looking for the mysteriously-vanished inspector. He was nowhere to be seen, and Valjean panicked a little, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. This was his dream. He didn’t need Javert to guide him, though he did seem to be helpful and knowledgeable about what was happening and how to control the experience. But didn’t he say Valjean was in control? Did he not say Valjean could make whatever he wanted of this dream? Determined to find some normalcy and some logic in this odd, fully-conscious sleep setting, the mayor began to walk toward a crater. He was still on the planet, or moon, or whatever this was. After a few steps, Valjean noticed he felt like he was bouncing a little with each stride. He looked down and nothing looked springy about the ground, but he decided to jump. He bounced into the air and landed softly. He took another step, purposely trying to bounce higher. And he did. Every time, he was able to bound higher and higher, and then he was running, taking giant, bouncing, bounding strides towards the crater. He laughed and felt more carefree and childlike than he had in many, many years. Maybe this was what it felt like to walk on the moon. How strange… how simply fun. He remembered when he got to the crater that he was still holding the rose Javert had handed him. How long ago was that? It felt like it had been hours ago. He couldn’t remember. When he raised his hand to look at the flower, he gasped to realize it wasn’t a flower anymore, but a blue ribbon. Had it always been a ribbon? Why did he think the inspector had handed him a rose? And hadn’t it been red? But why would he hand him a ribbon? “Strange,” Valjean muttered, and still looking at the ribbon, came up to the very edge of the crater and finally peered in, tearing his eyes away from the soft, silky ribbon. Out of sheer curiosity, he looked. What would he find in such a place?

Bread. 

Loaves and loaves of bread. Some whole, some torn, some slices, some dinner rolls… all bread. Different kinds, too. The crater appeared shallow enough that he could reach down and pick up a loaf, so he did. He picked a loaf of hearty-looking dark wheat; it looked strikingly similar to the one he had stolen so many years ago. As he stood back up, unable to look away from the familiar loaf, and ribbon in the other hand, he smirked and muttered, “Stranger still.” He sighed and finally looked up to examine his other surroundings, to see where to go next. Valjean wondered what else he might find here, admittedly a little excited by the surreal possibilities. A few hundred feet away, he saw a figure walking towards him, seemingly out of nowhere. A vague sense of unease began to fill the man, and suddenly he recognized that tall, daunting form. Javert. He had come to arrest Valjean at last for stealing the bread! “Shit,” Valjean muttered and began to run. A horrible feeling of dread flooded his entire body as he took off, running in the opposite direction of the inspector. He was still clutching the bread and the ribbon. As he ran, he became aware that he was moving incredibly slowly… like his legs were barely moving at all, or like he was trying to run under water. He had to escape! He would be caught and arrested and he’d never see Cosette again! Javert’s dark figure approached steadily. How could he move so fast? An idea dawned on him: he was losing consciousness. He could spin around a time or two and he could become lucid again, and maybe then he could control himself or his settings to get away quicker. It was worth a shot. Valjean stopped running, closed his eyes, and turned around a few times (and felt rather foolish doing so).


	3. The Parade

When he opened his eyes, he was in what appeared to be French provincial countryside. A small gravel road, surrounded by green fields and some trees on the other side. The road sloped slightly downhill. “Thank God,” he sighed. But was he lucid? He still wasn’t sure if he truly knew, or if he truly knew how to control his dreams if he was. In the distance, he heard music. It wasn’t the string ensemble or waltz from before… this sounded almost… brassier? Peppier? He turned around and saw coming up behind him, some ways away, what appeared to be a marching band. And a parade! As they approached, Valjean stepped off the road into the grass to let them pass. They were dressed in military uniforms, but carried bright, bouncing balloons of all kinds of shapes and colors. There were hundreds of men in this parade! The band wasn’t small either. The cheerful march played boldly, with sound just as bright and exciting as the balloons the other men carried. There were other military members part of the parade, waving flags of different colors, and somehow streamers and confetti seemed to float and follow in the air around and after the men as they made their way down the road. Valjean watched it all in sheer delight. What an exciting atmosphere! What an unexpected surprise! He continued to watch, rooted in one spot, while the parade disappeared down the gravel lane, and he could still hear the surreal, cheery sound of the band fading into the distance. He smiled and sighed happily, wondering what other wondrous things this new world held for him to discover. He half wished Javert had been here too see it too… maybe it would have lightened his usually somber mood. Though maybe not, Valjean considered. Things like parades would probably just annoy the inspector, or he’d at least find them frivolous. Valjean vaguely thought of what might bring that man joy. He couldn’t think of anything that didn’t involve catching criminals. “If I’m truly dreaming, though, and I can control my dream, I wonder what would happen if I let Javert catch me. And since it’s my dream, I could escape! Would that bring him joy, to catch me, in my dream?” Valjean thought about this for a moment until something caught his eye. Maybe 25 feet away, somehow previously unnoticed by him, he spied a small child sitting in the grass, crying. Of course, Valjean had to find out who he was, and why he was crying. Maybe he could help.

The child had pale blue eyes and a familiar look to his face. Valjean couldn’t quite place it, but he knew he’d seen that face before. Valjean looked around to see if anyone else was nearby. When he refocused his attention on the child, he realized the child was not a boy. And did not have blue eyes, and was not crying. But she did have a familiar face. She caught Valjean’s eye. “It’s been a while, Jean.” 

Valjean gasped, confused but eyes widened in realization of who it was. How the child had become someone totally different in the blink of an eye was beyond him, but here he was, talking to his sister. “Jeanne! Why are you… why do you look like that?” 

“This is one of the ways you remembered me best.” 

“I suppose so…” Valjean trailed off, his eyes starting to mist over. 

“Come now, don’t fret.” 

“How could I not? I haven’t seen you or the little ones in so, so long, and I…. I wasted so much of my life, but I didn’t know how to find you again, and I always hoped you were still out there and looking for me a little bit, and that you all had survived and were OK! And I never got to tell you how much-“ 

“Shhh,” she soothed Valjean, now by his side, and now in the form of herself around the age she was when Valjean had first been arrested. “I know. It’s OK. We didn’t know entirely what had happened to you, but we’d hoped for the best, as well. We never gave up hoping and looking for you, as much as we really could. Wasn’t a lot, though. But we never forgot you.” 

“And I, you.” The siblings pulled in close for an embrace that felt all too real, and yet Valjean knew was all too forged. Forged in his imagination, an embrace that would never truly come to be. Tears flowed hot and freely down the man’s cheeks. 

“Hush now, Jean. I’m here.” 

Valjean smiled and held her tightly. When they at last pulled away, Valjean was confronted with the body and face of Javert. He gasped audibly and backed away. 

“Inspector! How did you –“ 

“You know the answer, Valjean.” 

“Yes… yes, I suppose I do,” he concurred sadly. “I just saw my sister again, Inspector.” 

“Javert. And yes, I’m aware.” 

Valjean sighed dejectedly. He wondered if that would be the last time he’d ever see her. He had a horrible feeling… a sinking, heavy feeling inside of him, that it would be. He lowered his eyes, and saw he was holding that blue ribbon still. And the loaf of bread! Is that why Javert had returned? He held them out to Javert, like a strange offer, and the younger man’s pale blue eyes met Valjean’s as he accepted.


	4. The Prison

Without warning, Javert grabbed Valjean’s hand and jumped off the ground. They rose together, high into the sky, and Valjean gasped, feeling as though he was about to fall.

“You’re OK, Valjean. You won’t fall.” 

“How do you know I wo – wait, what did you call me?” 

“Valjean.” 

Valjean stiffened and went very pale, but this time not due to the height (they were now floating above the country landscape). 

“You know?” 

“I have always known.” 

“Why did you never say anything or… or turn me in?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” 

“It is not.” 

Javert sighed, annoyed at the other man’s answer. How could he not know? “I love you, Jean Valjean. THAT is why.” 

Valjean stared at the inspector with wide eyes, and if he had any color left in his cheeks previously, he certainly did not now. 

“You gave me a rose just now, did you not?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You handed me this loaf of bread and this rose.” 

“It’s… it’s not a rose, Javert, it’s a… ribbon…” 

Javert raised an eyebrow and held up a red rose in his hand, giving Valjean an incredulous look. One that said, ‘how can you not know the difference between a flower and a ribbon?’ One that maybe wondered if the man had suffered a small stroke. 

Valjean was thoroughly confused. It had been a blue ribbon moments before. But before that, it HAD been a red rose… that Javert had given Valjean! “Javert, I swear, it was a ribbon not two minutes ago. It was the same rose you gave me!” 

“I never gave you a rose.” 

“You most certainly did, back when we waltzed in space!” 

“Are you feeling alright? You aren’t making any sense.” 

“Javert, this is a dream! These things happened in this dream! Do you not remember them? You were there with me!” 

“Valjean, this is the first time I have ever seen you.” 

“What?” Valjean was starting to get annoyed now. 

“I have heard of you, certainly… but this is the first time we’re meeting in person.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

Javert sighed, also annoyed. “They said you’re very strong, but I suppose they never said anything about your memory…” 

“Who are ‘they’?! What impertinence!” 

“Do me a favor, Valjean.” 

“What? What could it possibly be?!” Valean shouted, visibly reddened (his color had returned when this bizarre argument began). 

“Turn around.” 

“I’m already lucid, Javert, I don’t need to tu – “ 

“Then why are you arguing with me?” 

“Because you’re making no sense!” 

“Is this not your dream?” 

“Of course.” 

“So you’re arguing with yourself, essentially.” Javert smirked. “Fool.” His tone was soft, despite his words. 

“I… I guess I am.” 

“So turn.” 

“No. I’m already lucid enough.” 

“Are you?” 

“Yes!” 

“So tell me, then: why are you afraid of falling?” 

“I don’t know. We’re up quite a ways into the air, and – “ 

“In love, I mean.” 

“I – oh. I don’t think I am particularly afraid of falling in love…?” 

“I confessed my love to you, and you simply argued with me in return. Do you not also have feelings for me?” 

How did Javert know this too? It was true; the mayor had harbored feelings for the handsome inspector for quite a while. 

“How could you possibly know any of these things, Javert?” 

“A man does not casually give another man a rose.” 

“I suppose that could be true.” 

“And this loaf of bread. You willingly submit yourself to me.” Javert’s pale eyes sparkled as he pulled Valjean in very, very close to him. Valjean could feel the weight of his eyes staring into his very soul, his essence, his self. In that moment, Valjean sensed Javert knew EVERY last tiny detail about him. Javert wrapped his arms around the older man, winked, and without warning, spun them both around very fast, three times. Somewhere, in the darkness that overwhelmed Valjean at that moment, he thought he heard a deep laugh. 

When he could see and feel something again, Javert was holding his hand, and together they were flying over a prison. They flew over a part where the roof was missing, and inside, Valjean spotted a dark haired woman holding a young boy with pale blue eyes. He looked very similar to the young boy he saw after the parade. Valjean felt a sense of dread and sadness. He looked over at Javert, whose expression had turned into a strange mix of longing, sadness, and pain. Valjean understood. He gripped the inspector’s hand a bit harder and whispered, “I’m sorry.” Javert squeezed back, shook his head, and smiled a rather sorrowful smile. 

In a very quiet, gentle voice that sent shivers down Valjean’s spine, Javert said, “I have learned to just be.” Valjean thought he spotted a tear perched in the corner of Javert’s eye, but much like the two of them floating through the sky, it never fell.


	5. The Field

After several minutes of flying through clouds, they burst forth into the scene of a fiery sunrise over a land that seemed to be covered in wheat. Valjean looked down at the wheat, and while he watched it shimmering, golden, in the morning, he wondered when it had ever been night. He glanced over at Javert, who was now holding him in his arms like a hawk with its prey in its talons, and took in a sharp gasp of air as he noticed large, black, angelic wings were what was carrying them both above the field. Realizing Javert hadn’t noticed (or hadn’t acknowledged) Valjean’s stare, Valjean looked back down at the ground, not intending to say anything, because it was a dream, after all. No point in questioning any of it anymore. The crops had turned into millions and millions of… teeth? Sharp, jagged, canine-esque teeth. A whole field of large, pointy teeth, ready to shred them if they were to fall. Valjean, alarmed, looked back up at Javert again, who looked down, gave a dangerous smirk, and suddenly his face became blurry. Valjean tried harder to focus on it, but he just couldn’t quite make it out. As he opened his mouth to ask Javert’s intentions, his own teeth fell out, and they plummeted downward.

When he woke up, Javert was gone, and he was lying in a field of roses. Thank god he hadn’t landed on those teeth! But where was Javert? Had he fallen? Had he been hurt? Maybe he landed on the teeth! Panicked, Valjean sat up and looked around. 

“Javert!” He called. No one replied. “Shit,” he uttered quietly. As he stood up, mildly dizzy, he looked down and saw his hand was bleeding. Had he landed on the teeth after all? He brought his bleeding hand up to his mouth and felt his own teeth back in place. Slightly relieved at least at that, he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to feel less dizzy, and was brought back to the moment by a cool hand on his own wounded hand. It was Javert, without wings. He was holding Valjean’s hand, examining it. 

“Bitten by the roses,” he commented. 

“Weren’t they teeth earlier? Covering the ground?” 

“Were they? That’s not what wounded you.” 

“I… I don’t know. I can’t believe or trust anything here.” 

“There’s one thing you can trust, Valjean.” Javert raised Valjean’s hand, still bleeding, to his lips, and kissed it softly. The wound immediately closed up. Valjean shuddered and looked into the inspector’s eyes. How did this man make him feel so safe, yet so afraid, and still so peaceful and awestruck? How could he heal his wounds like that? How could he know exactly what was going on, especially in Valjean’s dream… in his mind? “You can trust in love. Your heart.” Valjean’s breath hitched in his throat. He felt as if he might cry again. 

“Javert, I...” he felt so strange saying this, but he knew now was the right time. “I trust that I love you.” 

Javert smiled the warmest, kindest smile at Valjean that he had ever seen. His pale blue eyes glittered in the light. Quietly, he replied, “I know.” 

Valjean felt a sudden pang of worry run through him. What if Javert didn’t care about him, though? Or not in the same way? 

“Valjean.” 

“….yes?” 

“Quit worrying.” 

“Sorry?” 

“I know you’re worrying yourself over my response. Did I not just tell you that you can trust your heart?” 

“I suppose you did, but… I can't help but worry that -” 

Javert hushed him, and took him into a soft, warm embrace. Everything about Javert was radiating a beautiful, loving aura. It was stunning. Valjean hadn’t felt this type of caring, sweet love in a long time, and he certainly would have never guessed the sharp, severe inspector could have emitted such an atmosphere, such an emotion, especially given his life’s background. The feeling was indescribable, being enveloped in that younger man’s strong arms. In the distance, an orchestra began to play a waltz. Javert released Valjean, offered him a hand, and pulled him into a dance, his smile the most dazzling thing Valjean could imagine at the moment. Valjean had long considered the inspector handsome, but he realized he hadn’t ever seen him smile, or at least not in genuine happiness, like this. What a sight! For a few magical minutes, they danced wordlessly, admiring each other, Valjean hardly daring to breath (or maybe he simply couldn’t find his breath). Finally as the music faded, Javert bowed, handed Valjean a rose, and suddenly seemed to notice the time. “Ah! The night has ended at last. The day is dawning, and you must be on your way.” The rose looked familiar. 

“What? No, this has only just begun! I don’t want to leave you so soon, after… after all of this…” 

“Ah, Valjean. Have you not learned yet?” Javert grabbed Valjean’s hand once more, winked, and whispered, “Foolish man,” as he twirled him. Valjean saw only blackness and a vague deep, echoing voice in the back of his mind saying, “Just be.”


End file.
